


Midnight Illusion (English translation)

by MartyMiaMatt



Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: English translation, M/M, Pre-Slash, au/what if, translation of my fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9771083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: “Do you feel betrayed, Katze?”Almost involuntarily, the Furniture raised his chin. He made an effort to modulate his tone to convey polite bewilderment:“Betrayed? What are you referring to, Lord Am?”“I believe that you know what I am talking about” Raoul observed, calmly. “You have been handed over by your master to another man. To me. Do you not feel… put aside?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Midnight Illusion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9604316) by [MartyMiaMatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt). 



> This is the English translation of my Raoul/Katze fanfiction "Midnight Illusion". I was extremely happy and flattered to notice that people were interested in reading it, and I received a couple comments saying that they'd had a hard time doing so because it was written in Italian. I tried my best to produce a decent English version, though please let me know if something is unclear or incorrect! :)
> 
> (UPDATE - 2017/09/10: All my gratitude and my biggest THANK YOU go to KimiDoll/Jimu for taking the time to beta-read this story and give me precious advice on how to make it more fluent. I corrected a few parts according to their advice, though the overall result shouldn't look too different for those who have already read it.)

Darkness shrouded the quiet room, pierced only by a thin ray of moonlight.

The terrace’s open window let in a soft, gentle breeze that gently swayed the fine curtains.

The silence seemed so complete, so absolute that Katze felt as if the only audible noises were the sound of his breathing and the beating of his heart.

It was weird. After so many years, he’d reckoned that one Elite’s mansion would feel exactly the same as any other; and yet he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, out of place, in a space he didn’t belong to.

Lord Raoul Am stood before him. At that time, so late in the night, he had put aside his formal attire’s cloak and was wearing a sky-blue tunic which perfectly emphasized the fairness of his skin. Long golden strands of hair fell gently down his shoulders.

His beauty was inhuman enough to hurt.

Still, Katze would not lower his gaze. He couldn’t. He had no intention of appearing weak in front of him.

After another moment of hesitation, he finally resolved to break the silence. Perhaps the Blondie would be angered by such disrespect; but the wait was exasperating.

“Did you ask to speak to me?”

Raoul’s perfect visage betrayed no change of expression.

“Yes. I must ask you a few questions.”

This much, Katze had expected. There were countless things Lord Am might wish to know – and almost none that Katze could disclose.

He wondered if he would want to talk about Riki. And he wondered about how much Raoul suspected, and how much he actually knew, of the truth.

 

The Blondie took a step towards him. Until that moment he had kept his distance, standing on his feet, while – how unusual – he had invited Katze to sit in one of the armchairs.

“Do you feel betrayed, Katze?”

Almost involuntarily, the Furniture raised his chin. He made an effort to modulate his tone to convey polite bewilderment:

“Betrayed? What are you referring to, Lord Am?”

“I believe that you know what I am talking about” Raoul observed, calmly. “You have been handed over by your master to another man. To me. Do you not feel… put aside?”

 

Katze hesitated.

“It is Lord Iason’s right to dispose of me in any way he sees fit. I do not wish to oppose his will.”

A formal answer, the kind of general platitude that was expected by living decoration; but Raoul did not believe him.

Although he had been sceptic at first, he had come to understand that Iason’s servant was anything but ordinary - and certainly he was not brainless.

It must be a shared trait among Mongrels, Raoul mused with bitter amusement, that of bringing disarray onto his judgement and his beliefs.

He drew closer still. On the small table beside them he set down his glass, half-emptied of amber-colored champagne, next to the one he had ordered for Katze. He noticed that the other had emptied his glass in one gulp.

“I have another question to ask; but I must demand your complete sincerity.”

Instinctively, Katze’s shoulders tensed as if he was preparing to defend himself. Up until then, he had not realized how on edge he was.

“Are you in love with Iason, Katze?”

 

The tawny-haired man winced. That was not a question he had expected.

It was the first time that the name of his previous employer had been mentioned out loud, since the first moment he had moved into his new accommodation.

Now, the name hung in the air, in the space between them, burning like an indelible mark.

Raoul waited. At last, the Mongrel gave in and averted his gaze; still, he did not answer.

“I must insist.” Raoul’s voice was polite but ice-cold.

Why? Why did the Blondie demand so urgently to know such a thing, what importance could it have now?

Katze felt an incontrollable terror pulse in his brain.

Then suddenly, before he could react, Lord Raoul was suddenly closer than he had ever been in the last few days.

Closer than he had ever been since they’d known each other.

With a thin hand – how smooth and unblemished was his skin, no longer covered by gloves – he gripped Katze’s chin.

“Look at me.”

 

Katze swallowed. He could have struggled to free himself, he was still quite strong after all. But he could never win. Not against a Blondie.

“A long time has passed since then,” he murmured at last, defeated.

Raoul made him turn his face slightly and pushed away a strand of copper hair, allowing the two moons’ light to hit the irregular cut on Katze’s left cheek.

He felt his resistance, his instinctive urge to shrink away. And yet, Katze did not stop him.

Raoul grazed the scar with his thumb. His touch was light, his gaze almost clinical, as if he was analyzing it to satisfy a mere scientific curiosity.

“It’s the same way a cut can heal; but the skin on which it was opened will never be the same as before…” Raoul whispered, pensively.

His hand travelled down, along Katze’s neck. He delicately touched the collar of his dark green shirt, which felt smooth and fresh. Farther down, under his palm he felt the beating of Katze’s heart, which was now irregular.

That heart, then, which had once beaten for Iason. And in the name of such desperate devotion, was Katze truly willing to accept any fate that befell upon him? Only for Iason?

Raoul removed his hand. The two men gazed silently at each other.

“Is this the secret?” the Blondie inquired, after a pause.

“What secret?”

 

For the first time, the Blondie seemed to unintentionally show a trace of impatience.

“That mechanism which is said to be so powerful that it represents unbearable danger. The feeling that is capable of driving the most rational creatures to lying, killing and dying in its name.” His voice faltered, ever so slightly.

“ _Love_ , Katze. Is this what it means? To be ready to do anything for someone, no matter how it can compromise us? Even without every getting anything in return?”

He uttered those words with something akin to disgust and bewilderment, in front of a phenomenon that escaped his comprehension.

Such was the reaction that was expected of him. He was part of the Elite, part of the chosen children of Jupiter.

He had been taught that human passions were too intense and unpredictable and could only lead to ruin. That the only way to prevent their devastating effect was to dominate them, and to do so at all costs.

He had always believed all of this to be true. And he had never once doubted his own capability of maintaining control.

Until that moment.

 

He went back to studying Katze’s face. His dark eyes. That greyish and sickly pallor that clashed with his dark-red mane.

From a purely aesthetical point of view, Katze was not particularly appealing. He was nothing but an imperfect human, a Mongrel from Ceres. Why, then…?

“Stand up,” Raoul ordered.

Katze’s expression became questioning, wary; but he obeyed.

Absent-mindedly, Raoul began to slowly undo the belt that closed Katze’s shirt.

The Furniture shivered.

“I will do you no harm. I only wish to look at you.”

Raoul pulled back the flaps of fine fabric. Little by little, in the darkness, he uncovered Katze’s well-formed body. His shoulders were broad, though in that moment they were hunched forward; his abdomen was flat, ribs only barely protruding under the skin.

And lower down, the lines of his groin disappeared under the waist of his trousers… with that same sort of scientific curiosity, Raoul moved his hand between Katze’s thighs and attempted to lower the band of fabric…

 

As if a rush of electricity had run through his body, Katze suddenly took a step back.

“ _No,_ ” he muttered.

“Why?”

Once again cold, once again unreadable, his new master towered over him. If he had truly wanted to, undoubtedly he could have forced him.

“Please,” Katze whispered, almost begging.

One moment later, his reaction made him feel ashamed.

Until that moment, he had never allowed anyone to scare him, with the exception of Iason Mink… it was impossible not to fear _him._ But certainly he had never perceived Raoul Am as a threat.

“Why me?” he snapped, his voice a little louder. “I'm old. Scarred and maimed. I am no Pet material, Lord Am.”

The trembling that danced for an instant on the other man’s mouth… could it be a smile?

“You’re right. You are not.”

 

With one finger, Raoul traced the shape of Katze’s pale, parted lips.

Raoul felt the blood in his temple pulse as if he was losing his mind. He had never felt so close to understanding… the things that Iason talked about. Close to finding himself upon the brink of the abyss.

For the first time after many years, Raoul acted on impulse.

He held Katze’s face in his hands and kissed his lips.

At first it was a cold, mechanical act; the sterile imitation of what he had seen Pets do.

Then he continued, as if driven by a sudden craving, an urge that he had never experienced.

He held the other man close by laying one of his hands on his nape, even though the other remained still, as if petrified.

Katze’s chest against his, moved by heavy breathing; the heat radiating from his skin…

Katze was his Pet now. Raoul had a right of life and death over that quiet, impenetrable man who had vowed his loyalty to Iason.

Raoul stopped.

Katze could never be as devoted to him. And he couldn’t – it was forbidden – he couldn’t do what he had been on the verge of doing.

Raoul was not like Iason. He would never commit the same, absurd mistake.

 _Not he_. Never.

Suddenly, Raoul pulled back.

Around the two of them, nothing had changed… and yet, he felt as if a whole lifetime had passed.

Outside the window, beyond the glass pane, Amoi’s two moons stood unmoving and uncaring against the black sky.

 

Katze’s handsome visage was now covered by shadows. It was impossible, even for Raoul’s analytical mind, to guess what he was thinking.

“I must go. You are free to take your leave now.” Raoul said, slowly.

Katze nodded, without speaking. His throat was aching with desire for a cigarette.

He felt the Blondie’s mesmerizing green eyes on himself; he avoided their gaze.

He briefly bowed his head, ready to leave. He was surprised, however, when it was Raoul who left first; a barely audible rustle of fabric, the hum of the door opening - and then the room was empty.

Katze stared at the wall in front of him. Absurdly, he remembered that he had left the last pack of cigarettes he had inside his quarters.

He had not lied. The feelings he had once held for Iason belonged to a past that he had no intention of evoking. He had seen with his own eyes, on Riki’s skin, what it meant to be loved by Iason Mink. If once he had envied Riki, he had long since stopped wishing to be in his place.

Once again, his thoughts turned to Raoul.

He touched his scar.

He wondered if one day he would receive a new one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Katze ending up as Raoul's Pet/Furniture/private assistant of sorts, is something that was rather common in fandom a few years ago, at least in my experience. Over the years I read several stories that explored this possibility; I don't remember every one of them, but I would like to credit one: "On hire" by Lena.  
> Unfortunately I couldn't find a way to contact the author. If anyone knows how, could you please help me?  
> Thank you very much. (And go read "On hire", it is an excellent story, infinitely better than anything I could ever come up with!)  
> Marty


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